


Misdirection

by threewalls



Series: Schirra [12]
Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: 701 OV, F/M, Masturbation, Partnership, Strahl, Voyeurism, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-17
Updated: 2007-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-15 07:33:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threewalls/pseuds/threewalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Balthier's still getting used to this 'partner' business.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misdirection

Balthier moved with the friction and the pleasure, as characters from countless plays, lays and novelettes coupled on the stage of his mind, in an interchangeable, repetitive but all together highly satisfying manner. There was something of the essence of freedom in self-love, he thought. It was the one act for which he didn't have to concern himself with the entertainment value of his performance. The plot was simple. Balthier brought his right hand back up to his face, to spit into his palm.

Someone sneezed; it wasn't him.

Balthier froze, pulse in his throat, knees akimbo and one, wet, hand cupped in front of his face. He looked to the side. In her bunk opposite his, not three feet of the Strahl's aisle separating them, Fran sneezed again. Balthier watched the fringe of one outstretched ear twitch, gold-green from the emergency strip lighting, as his new partner shifted in her sleep. He hoped she was asleep. He could not make out her face.

The Strahl was beyond doubt the most beautiful ship ever constructed, built for speed, stealth and manoeuvrability-- and had been upgraded liberally to his personal whims after her acquisition-- but she had not shaken all aspects of her military past. She had been designed for soldiers, and soldiers were far too little enamoured of privacy for Balthier’s taste. That could be rectified. Later.

His mind might have blanked, but his body demanded, urged continuance. Balthier inched his still cupped hand down his body, but even so the rasp of his fly against his knuckles, the sheet against his shirt sleeve seemed unbearable, blatant, vulgar. But, surely not an insurmountable obstacle for a man of his talents?

Balthier raised his right knee, his right hip, by torturously slow inches, and shoved his trousers down to his knees. He held his body twisted, tenting the sheet's fabric far above the furious motion of his fist, because this was easier, quieter if not silent, with a far better ratio of sensation to sound. Balthier strained the muscles of his neck, his eyes, peering across the aisle into the dark, but he still couldn't see any more of Fran than that one illuminated edge of her ear.

He thought about holding his breath, but perhaps the very absence of that sound would be telling. But in thinking of it, he'd begun to control his breathing, and he found he couldn't then stop thinking about it, so he kept on at it, shallow and even, in time with the flicks and twists of his wrist. Balthier began to feel light-headed, and found it queerly thrilling.

Fran had ears the length of his forearm, elbow to cuff; if she was awake, she would hear his thundering pulse. If Fran was awake, she could probably see him, raised knee trembling as he jacked himself hard. Balthier couldn't remember where he'd read that viera had exceptional night vision-- Merlose or was it-- fuck, it didn't matter. She could see, could be watching him, over there in the dark, and he wouldn't know if--

Balthier relaxed for a moment, both shoulders against the mattress, and then reached down to wriggle his trousers up, searching the pockets for a tightly folded triangle of handkerchief.

Fran sneezed. And sneezed, and sat up, sneezing-- Balthier caught sight of the claw she put down to support herself, the edge of her sheet sliding from her bunk. He rolled towards the bulkhead, handkerchief unfolded, and then used, and then he lay still, his eyes shut.

Sod improvements to the Strahl, if he was starting to have ideas about the viera-- Balthier would schedule more frequent landfalls. Better for both of them.

Fran sneezed again, and fuck, his heart was racing.


End file.
